David Wolf series Box Set 2

by Jeff Carson

  Wolf nodded. “I understand. Can you show me where the gun is, please?”

  Steven stepped to the backside of the second tent.

  “Slowly now,” Shumway said, drawing his pistol all the way out.

  Steven gave him a double take and raised his arms. “Jesus, I’m not … it’s there. Hanging from Professor Green’s tent.” He pointed and his jaw dropped.

  “Come back over here.” Shumway crooked a finger and held his pistol loosely at his side.

  Steven stood frozen, still looking down.

  “Right now,” Shumway said.

  Steven raised his arms higher and walked fast, back next to the two women.

  Wolf rounded to the other side of the second tent. An empty leather holster hung from a hook off the tent fabric. The retention strap was unbuttoned and bouncing in the breeze.

  “I swear it’s usually there,” Steven said.

  “What?” Molly’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? It’s not there?”

  “I don’t know, he must have taken it,” Steven said with clenched teeth.

  “Oh my God.” Felicia put both hands over her eyes.

  Wolf went to the front of the second tent and peeled open the half-circle zipper. It was hot inside, the air stagnant, and a single fly buzzed against the domed nylon interior.

  A light cloth sleeping bag was neatly laid out with a pillow at its head opening. Two pairs of white socks were lined up next to each other, and next to that lay a stack of neatly folded clothing. The shirts were all button-up, the shorts cargo. A worn copy of a book called Systematics and The Fossil Record lay next to it all.

  Wolf lifted the lid of a wooden box. It was full of rocks and crystals, and a carton of .38 special rounds. He pulled a pen from his chest pocket and lifted open the box lid. Half the rounds were missing.

  Backing out of the tent he said, “Got a box of .38 specials. Half of them are gone.”

  “Well, this is definitely not looking good for you three,” Shumway said.

  “Why?” Steven turned around. “What did we do? That’s Professor Green’s tent.”

  Wolf walked to the third tent and poked his head inside. There was a dirty pair of men’s jeans wadded up in the corner, and a man’s T-shirt lying near it. But the size of the clothing told him it was Mo’s tent.

  He dug through the clothing and personal effects and found no pistol or pair of Converse, not that she would have worn a size-sixteen shoe.

  He ducked back out and stood, making a show of looking around. “I’m confused. Where do you sleep, Steven?”

  Steven glanced at his wife, who didn’t return the gesture. “Down the wash a ways.”

  Wolf pointed to his right and then left.

  “That way.” Steven pointed to the west.

  “Why do you sleep away from the rest of the camp?”

  “That’s not really any of your business.”

  Felicia stared into the distance. She’d thoroughly checked out of the conversation.

  Shumway was squinting in thought, flicking his gaze between them. He’d seen Felicia’s reaction, or non-reaction, too.

  “You have a pair of Converse All Stars, Steven?” Wolf asked.

  “Nope,” he answered without hesitation.

  Felicia’s steely gaze cracked, and she scratched an eyebrow.

  Molly seemed to flinch at the question too.

  “We had a homicide down in Rocky Points, Saturday night,” Wolf said. “A fossil dealer was shot once in the head and once in the back. The two slugs found in his corpse were .38 specials, which I’m sure we’re going to find match those bullets in that box.”

  They said nothing.

  “We just had a conversation with the people at Dig 1, Steven, and they say you have a pair of purple Converse All Stars.”

  Steven made a so what gesture and said, “Not anymore. Haven’t had them for over a month.”

  “So you do have them,” Shumway said.

  “I said I did. I don’t anymore.”

  “And why’s that?” Wolf asked.

  Steven licked his lips. “I lost them over a month ago. They just disappeared. I think an animal took them.”

  Shumway snorted. “An animal took them?”

  “Did I stutter? I keep my shoes outside the tent. One morning they were gone. So, like I told you, I don’t have a pair of Converse All Stars. Why are you asking me, anyway?”

  Wolf looked at Mo and Felicia. They met his gaze now, as if Steven’s explanation had relieved their earlier stress.

  “How far?” Wolf asked.

  “How far what?”

  “How far to your tent?”

  “Up a couple of bends.”

  “And your truck?”

  “Up next to my tent.”

  “Okay. Let’s go take a look. You lead the way. Felicia and Molly can follow. The sheriff and I will take up the rear. But first, I want you to take us by the dinosaur bones and show us those.”

  The three students stood in frozen silence.

  “Why?” Steven asked.

  Wolf waved his hand. “Let’s go.”

  Steven exhaled and crunched past Wolf. Felicia came next, smelling like a fresh spray of the perfume that permeated her tent. Mo Waters followed, giving Wolf an unreadable look on the way by.

  Shumway gave him the after you hand again.

  They passed underneath the shade tent and squished their way through the dry wash, then climbed up a few yards onto the other side.

  “Is this a private-land dig?” Wolf asked. “Or part of the BLM park?”

  Mo turned around. “The dig is on private land. That side of the wash is BLM.”

  Wolf nodded, sneaking a glance at Shumway. The sheriff might have blinked, but that was it. “And where will these bones go once they’re dug up?”

  “To the university,” Steven said, stopping at the edge of a deep, wide pit. “The landowner donated them.”

  Wolf was confused by Steven’s actions. He was looking down like the bones were still there, like he was willing to play this out until the last bitter second.

  Wolf and Shumway reached the edge of the pit too, and Wolf stiffened. What the hell?

  Inside the enormous pit were stone-colored fossils. Judging by the skull and the rest of the bones, it was an Allosaurus, and to Wolf’s untrained eye it looked to be about eighty percent complete.

  Chapter 21

  Patterson stepped on a burnt stick and it crumbled under her boot.

  A gust of wind kicked up a blast of soot and ash from the surrounding landscape and whipped it into their faces.

  “Shit, ah,” Rachette said behind her.

  Patterson’s eyes stung as she clamped them shut. Holding her breath, she put her face into her sleeve and tried to wait it out.

  She dared a peek and saw Rachette stumbling away. Thinking better of remaining among the charred sagebrush, she followed her partner’s lead back outside the fire line.

  “Damn. Nice idea going out there.” Rachette brushed his face and scalp.

  Tasting charcoal, Patterson spat and saw flecks of black in her saliva.

  A Brushing fireman named Danny Chase, a quick-talking individual with a bushy goatee, stepped away from Patterson. “Careful.” He smiled and winked, and then his eyes raked her up and down for the third time in as many minutes.

  They stood at the apex of a V-shaped burn pattern, the line of scorched earth extending away from them in two directions.

  “Nothing at all?” Patterson asked.

  “Couldn’t find anything,” Chase said. “Not that uncommon. It was a fire. The source of it could’ve burned up in the flames. But this is definitely the ignition point. Like I said, our lead investigator is due in later today and he’ll check it out. Sorry.” He lifted his hands and turned a circle. “No charred moving truck.”

  She turned to face the county road where their vehicles were parked a dozen or so yards away up a slope.

  “Classic cigarette-butt fire,” Chase said. “If
you ask me.”

  “But you didn’t find the butt.”

  “Right. But those were some high winds Saturday night. It could have landed in the top of these bushes here, ignited them, and then kept blowing along with the flames until”—he snapped his fingers—“poof. Gone.”

  Rachette expelled a wad of chew from his mouth and began his ritual of swirling his tongue around and spitting profusely.

  “Ugh.” She turned away and walked back toward the SUV.

  Rachette kicked pebbles against her heels as he followed. “You like it up here in Brushing?”

  “Not bad. Wish I was in Rocky Points like you guys. A lot more action down there. Got my application in with your department, actually. I guess they’re hiring a driver down there. We’ll see.”

  Rachette made an uninterested noise.

  They ducked through the barbed wire, Chase making too much effort to help Patterson in the process, and reached their SUVs.

  “Thanks, Chase,” Rachette said. “We’ll let you get back to work.”

  “It’s no problem. We’ve got it contained so the work’s pretty much over. Anyway, glad I could assist, but sorry I couldn’t help with what you’re looking for.”

  Patterson scratched her chin with her engagement-ring finger, just in case Chase got any bold ideas, and glared at the line of cars moving like ants in the distance. She spotted the gas station, and then another car cutting left across the valley on a road that looked to be parallel to the one they stood on. “What’s that road?”

  Chase furrowed his brow. “I don’t know, uh … 83? No ... wait …”

  “How far could a burning ember travel on the wind?”

  “Upwards of a mile, given the right conditions. That’s why we have so many of us still here, to make sure there aren’t any embers blowing out.”

  Patterson shook her head. “No, an ember from a moving truck.”

  Chase followed her gaze. “You think your truck was burned on that far road, and a burning ember blew all that way here?”

  “If you check the direction of that burn, and follow it backwards, it points to that grove of oak trees up there, right next to that road. If I was going to burn a truck, I’d probably do it near those trees. It would hide the flames from people passing by the highway. Otherwise it would draw a lot of attention, right? What is it to that farther road, four hundred yards?” Patterson asked.

  “No.” Rachette said. “Like five hundred. A short par five.”

  Patterson and Chase looked at him.

  “What? I play golf, and it’s about five hundred yards to that road. I can tell.”

  “What’s that, like a driver and two three woods for you?” Chase asked with a straight face.

  Rachette appraised him and smiled. “And another chip and three putts, if I’m lucky. You play golf too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s your handicap?”

  “Psh, I don’t know. Used to be a—”

  “Excuse me,” Patterson said. “But we’re going to leave now.”

  Chapter 22

  Patterson’s arm sizzled, looking like a burnt hot dog as it rested on the edge of the open window.

  Rachette’s window was up and he had the air conditioning blasting on him.

  “Why don’t you roll down your window? What if we can smell something?”

  Rachette looked at her.

  “We checked your clump of trees and it was empty. There’s nothing here.”

  She shook her head. She knew what she’d seen on that video. It fit.

  Danny Chase was no longer behind them. He’d been just as dejected as Patterson when the oak trees lining the creek had held no burned secrets and had returned to his prior task of burying embers on the burn line.

  Now Patterson and Rachette crept along another quarter mile past the point Rachette had given up, reaping nothing but more anger from him with each roll of the tires.

  A short distance later there was a ninety-degree turn to the right.

  Rachette stopped. “All right. End of the line, the road curves even further away from the fire.”

  She leaned into the windshield. “Keep going. A little more. Look at that.”

  Rachette took the turn and hit the gas, seeing what she was looking at.

  There was a mound in the road up ahead with a sign that said Hedge Creek.

  When they passed the sign, he rolled down his window and stuck his head out. Letting off the gas he said, “Look for tracks going off the road.”

  A second later Patterson saw them. “Stop!”

  Rachette scraped to a halt and jammed the SUV in park.

  They’d found their quarry. She stepped outside and punched a fist into the wind. “I knew it.”

  She pointed down. “Dual rear tires.”

  “Stay off ’em,” he said.

  They stepped over them and followed the barbed-wire fence down to the creek, which was a trickle of water in a twenty-foot-wide swath of dirt that passed directly under the road ahead.

  The tracks left bent weeds and stalks of grass where it had driven. Rachette kicked up grasshoppers, leading the way down a gentle slope to the water’s edge.

  “Thar she blows,” he said, coming to a stop.

  A box-culvert ran underneath the road, and inside were the tangled, black remains of a truck.

  “Whoa.” Rachette’s voice echoed in the culvert. “I’m no fire expert, but it looks like it burned hot.”

  Patterson nodded, entranced by the twisted skeleton of the vehicle.

  The wind whipped at their back and sucked past them into the hole.

  “It’s like a wind tunnel,” she said. “So you’re right. It probably burned hot with a constant fan hitting it. Strange. Look how there’s barely anything burnt beyond it.”

  Through the space between the truck and the blackened concrete walls there was brush land and another grove of oaks hugging the creek’s banks—all of it unscathed by flame.

  From here, the trees obstructed a view of the fire trucks so the culvert had been invisible from their earlier vantage point.

  The vehicle was twisted and mangled, so much reduced to ash that it was barely recognizable.

  “Check out the footprints in the dirt next to the tire.”

  Patterson nodded. The tread was the same diamond pattern.

  Patterson tilted her head and stepped nearer the charred remains. “These are bones.”

  “What kind of bones?”

  She touched a gray piece of material and it disintegrated to dust, revealing a human skull underneath it.

  Rachette stepped back. “Shit. You think it’s Green?”

  She snapped on rubber gloves and poked her finger at some wire next to the blackened skull. “Looks like eyeglasses. I think it’s him. I recognize the front teeth. One of them is set in front of the other. Remember his smile? I remember thinking he looked like a chipmunk with those teeth. Lorber can make the call, but I’d bet your salary it’s him.”

  “Confidence. I like that in a woman.” Rachette walked past her to the side of the truck. Leaning his head past a twisted piece of metal, he pointed at a lump. “What’s this? There’s a ton of it.”

  She stepped over and pressed it with her finger in various places. It was firm. She picked up a rock and tapped it against the lump, then smacked it down hard.

  “What are you doing?”

  She hit it again, and a piece of material flaked off, revealing a lighter shade beneath. She hit it again, revealing an area stark white against the blackened exterior.

  “Casting material,” she said.

  “Casting material.” Rachette made an “O” with his lips. “More bones.”

  “Yep. But these are a lot older.”

  Chapter 23

  “What kind of dinosaur is this?” Wolf knew the answer but could think of no other questions as he gaped down at the hole.

  “Allosaurus fragilis,” Steven said. “It’s a good specimen. Female, more than seventy-five percen
t complete by our estimates. One of the best finds in history.”

  Wolf had never seen anything like the full skeleton sitting in the ground, precisely in the spot where it had died millions of years ago. He stared at it, trying to imagine the beast alive. The head was fully cleared of dirt, and looked to be ready to remove. The skull was huge, jaws agape—Wolf could’ve wedged half his body inside.

  Steven watched him. “Classic death pose.”

  “What?” Wolf asked.

  “That’s what they call that position the skeleton is in. Head thrown back, jaws wide open. Thought to be strong ligaments in the animals’ necks tightening after death, or just how water deposits them—it’s all up for debate.”

  Shumway stood looking down, thumbs hitched on his duty belt. “Why have you guys been keeping this a secret from everyone up at Dig 1?”

  Steven shrugged. “It’s a rare find. We wanted to keep it a secret until the bones were all uncovered. Superstition, I guess. We didn’t want to jinx it. You know … say we’re finding a great specimen, one of the most complete ever, and then we suddenly can’t find any more bones.”

  The two women stared at the bones with frozen expressions.

  “What were you three doing on Saturday?” Wolf asked.

  Steven made a show of thinking about it, and then shrugged. “I don’t remember. Not much. We don’t usually work much on the weekends. Try to keep a normal schedule to avoid burnout. What did—”

  “We went into town,” Felicia said.

  Steven froze.

  Wolf nodded. “Yeah, the team up there said three of you left and went into town in the afternoon, and Molly stayed here. What were you doing?”

  “We dropped Professor Green in Windfield,” Felicia said. “He was renting a moving truck.”

  Steven turned his head slightly toward his wife but held his poker face.

  “You dropped him off?” Wolf asked.

  Felicia nodded.

  “And where did you go?”